Pelham

Pelham

The Project Gutenberg EBook Pelham, Complete, by Edward
Bulwer-Lytton #51 in our series by Edward Bulwer-Lytton
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Title: Pelham, Complete
Author: Edward Bulwer-Lytton
Release Date: March 2005 [EBook #7623] [Yes, we are more than one
year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on February 8, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PELHAM,
COMPLETE, LYTTON ***

This eBook was produced by David Widger

PELHAM
By Edward Bulwer Lytton

VOLUME I.

CHAPTER I.
Ou peut-on etre mieux qu'au sein de sa famille? --French Song. [Where
can on be better than in the bosom of one's family?]
I am an only child. My father was the younger son of one of our oldest
earls; my mother the dowerless daughter of a Scotch peer. Mr. Pelham
was a moderate whig, and gave sumptuous dinners; Lady Frances was a
woman of taste, and particularly fond of diamonds and old china.
Vulgar people know nothing of the necessaries required in good society,
and the credit they give is as short as their pedigree. Six years after my
birth, there was an execution in our house. My mother was just setting
off on a visit to the Duchess of D_____; she declared it was impossible
to go without her diamonds. The chief of the bailiffs declared it was
impossible to trust them out of his sight. The matter was
compromised-- the bailiff went with my mother to C___, and was
introduced as my tutor. "A man of singular merit," whispered my
mother, "but so shy!" Fortunately, the bailiff was abashed, and by
losing his impudence he kept the secret. At the end of the week, the
diamonds went to the jeweller's, and Lady Frances wore paste.
I think it was about a month afterwards that a sixteenth cousin left my
mother twenty thousand pounds. "It will just pay off our most

importunate creditors, and equip me for Melton," said Mr. Pelham.
"It will just redeem my diamonds, and refurnish the house," said Lady
Frances.
The latter alternative was chosen. My father went down to run his last
horse at Newmarket, and my mother received nine hundred people in a
Turkish tent. Both were equally fortunate, the Greek and the Turk; my
father's horse lost, in consequence of which he pocketed five thousand
pounds; and my mother looked so charming as a Sultana, that Seymour
Conway fell desperately in love with her.
Mr. Conway had just caused two divorces; and of course, all the
women in London were dying for him--judge then of the pride which
Lady Frances felt at his addresses. The end of the season was unusually
dull, and my mother, after having looked over her list of engagements,
and ascertained that she had none remaining worth staying for, agreed
to elope with her new lover.
The carriage was at the end of the square. My mother, for the first time
in her life, got up at six o'clock. Her foot was on the step, and her hand
next to Mr. Conway's heart, when she remembered that her favourite
china monster and her French dog were left behind. She insisted on
returning--re-entered the house, and was coming down stairs with one
under each arm, when she was met by my father and two servants. My
father's valet had discovered the flight (I forget how), and awakened his
master.
When my father was convinced of his loss, he called for his dressing-
gown--searched the garret and the kitchen--looked in the maid's
drawers and the cellaret--and finally declared he was distracted. I have
heard that the servants were quite melted by his grief, and I do not
doubt it in the least, for he was always celebrated for his skill in private
theatricals. He was just retiring to vent his grief in his dressing-room,
when he met my mother. It must altogether have been an awkward
rencontre, and,